You ruin everything. I don’t want you in my life.
Robyn pressed closer to Erik and felt his arms tighten.
“It was a long time ago, Robyn. Ancient history.”
“But people don’t forget history, do they?” What had her sister told her daughter?
Robyn the rebel.
She wondered what her sister would say if she could see her now. Happy. Married to a man she loved. Living in one place. Earning a good living, although no doubt Elizabeth would see it as unconventional.
Christy, it seemed, was happily married and living an idyllic life in the country, as her mother had before her.
What would Elizabeth say if she knew her daughter was coming to visit?
Robyn gave a shiver and turned back toward the lodge.
Elizabeth wouldn’t have been happy, and if she could have stopped it, she would have done so. She wouldn’t have wanted her sister to contaminate her daughter’s perfect life.
2
Christy
“Living the dream, Christy, living the dream.” Christy stuck a bucket under the leak in the downstairs bathroom and glanced at the spreading stain on the ceiling in despair. Sometimes it felt as if she was living in a sieve, not a cottage.
How was she going to tell Seb about this latest crisis? If one more thing goes wrong with this place…
Maybe she’d wait a few days before mentioning it. Or she could get it fixed without telling him. She still had a small amount of savings left from her mother’s estate.
She slumped against the wall and snuggled deeper into her thick sweater.
Christmas was usually her favorite time of year. Warmth, coziness, the smell of the tree and festive baking. Tradition and togetherness. She’d thought the cottage would enhance those feelings. Instead, it was promising to kill them.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She’d wanted to create the perfect home for her family. She’d imagined pets, sunshine, apple orchards, fields of daisies, dreamy Christmases and a cottage so loved it was almost another family member.
She stared gloomily at the damp, feeling betrayed. If the house was a family member she’d be talking to lawyers. She’d had a plan for the day: twenty-two items neatly laid out in her notebook in priority order ready to be crossed out—oh how she loved that part—and so far she hadn’t put a line through a single one. The cottage refused to cooperate.
When she’d first laid eyes on the place on a sunny day in June, it had been love at first sight. She’d told herself that if only they could live here, she’d never complain about anything again.
Be careful what you wish for.
This was all her fault.
The cottage had been outside their budget, and Seb had been resistant to the idea of stretching themselves financially, but she’d persuaded him that they could make it work. A few sacrifices would be nothing compared to the benefits. They’d spend Sundays exploring the leafy lanes and open fields. Holly could go to the village school and have friends back to play in the pretty garden. She’d be part of the local community. Maybe they’d even get a puppy.
Turned out there was already enough local wildlife living in the place without adding to it, and as for the local community—
Her phone buzzed, and she checked the number and groaned. Her finger hovered. Reject the call, reject the call…
Good manners prevailed.
“Alison! How lovely to hear from you.” She flinched as another drop of icy water hit her head. “Yes, I know I promised to call, but— Will I be at the village book group this week?” Say no, Christy. Say that you loathe the books they choose, feel patronized by the people and can’t bear to spend another evening sitting in a drafty church hall. “Yes. I’ll be there. Looking forward to it.” Each lie eroded her self-esteem a little more. But she had to live in this place. The locals were already suspicious of her. If she upset the village matriarch, maybe the local store would refuse to sell her bread and milk. “Food? Yes, you can rely on me for a quiche… Vegetarian? No problem.”
She ended the call and closed her eyes.
“You are pathetic, Christy. Pathetic.”
She had a feeling that the only way she was ever going to extricate herself from the torture of the local book group and the crushing boredom of the village fundraising committee was to move house. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea.
If headlines were to be believed, everyone wanted to move from the city to the country. If they put the place on the market in spring or summer, people would fall in love with the idea of living in this fairy-tale cottage, as she had. They wouldn’t discover the truth until they had the key in their hands.
“Mummy!” A shout came from the kitchen.
“Coming!” Christy pointed a finger at the ceiling. “Stay. If you fall in this close to Christmas, that’s it. I’m leaving you.” And now she was losing it, talking to a house as if it was a person with a grudge against her.
She closed the door behind her and mentally composed a sales pitch.
Beautiful country cottage for sale. Would suit a draft-loving family with an interest in local wildlife (mice, bats, rats and the occasional squirrel) and money to burn. Must enjoy boring books and judgmental locals.
“Mummy!” The shout was louder this time, and Christy hurried back to the kitchen. “Oh my— Holly, what have you done?”
“I’ve done you a painting.” Holly flourished the paper with pride, and Christy gave a weak smile.
“Most of it seems to be in your hair and on your face.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I know.” There were days when she wondered if Holly was really her child. At the same age, she’d loved wearing dresses and staying clean. Holly was never happier than when she was climbing a tree or digging in the dirt for worms.
“How many sleeps until Christmas?” Paintbrush still in hand, Holly bounced in her chair, scattering blobs of color across the surface of the table. “Can we go to Lapland today?”
“Not today. Seven sleeps until we travel. Fourteen sleeps until Christmas.” Christy reached for a cloth and wiped up the mess. Outside, rain lashed at the window. Their little garden, so pretty in the summer months, had turned into a droopy mess. “Don’t wave the brush, honey.”
She checked the forecast on her phone, her spirits plummeting when she saw the amount of rain in her future. It was impossible not to anticipate the next disaster the cottage would throw at her. Yet another leak. More damp.
“I want to go to Lapland. I want to see the snow and lights.”
Christy wanted that, too. Christmas here should have been romantic and gorgeously festive, but no matter how many decorations she added to the tree, or how many fairy lights she hung, it didn’t change the fact that all she wanted to do with the cottage right now was escape from it. Lapland would give them a Christmas to remember, which was why she’d delved into precious savings to pay for it.
“Snow will be fun.”
Christy was excited about more than snow. She was finally going to meet her mystery aunt. Her only living relative. Robyn and her husband owned an upmarket retreat for intrepid travelers. The Snow Spa. How cool was that?
The thought made her smile. Very cool, literally.
And visiting her rebel aunt could probably be described as intrepid.